Yesterday
She twirled it around
her finger,
it didn’t break
because she
willed it not to.
Yesterday didn’t matter
and tomorrow
can fuck right off.
It’s jagged
when you think of it.
So don’t fool yourself,
it’s a grind unacceptable,
a price too fucked up
to pay.
There’s no logic
in the teeth
behind you.
And that is not
the correct way to play.

Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography
published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids
instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight; this too may pass, yet.
Buy his books ‘Scribblings Of A Madman’ (Lit Fest Press) http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1943170096
‘Poetry From The Nearest Barstool’ at http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1326241036
And a split poetry book ‘The Raven And The Vagabond Heart’ with Bethany W Pope
at http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1326415204
You can also read his poems and stories here! http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/

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